Dutchman: Inferno
by Kukuracha Jack
Summary: The Gate needs emissaries to monitor the worlds, and prevent energy overflow. After Pride kills Mustang, Mustang is sent to a new world. Xover.
1. Before the Gate

Not everyone who dies becomes energy to be used in the other worlds. Some are selected as emissaries to keep the balance. Mustang is sent to Valdemar, set during 'Brightly Burning'.

**Dutchman: Inferno**

**Open the Door**

The Gate is not cruel, it just needs to maintain the balance. Sometimes usually this means absorbing those who enter. However, the Gate is not all-powerful. There are those who can disrupt the flow, and cannot be forced to kneel before the black door. Emissaries are needed. Warriors, whose skills and strength are put to use.

These are the Dutchmen. Most are men, but a few women have succeeded in joining the ranks. Each Dutchman travels the world he finds himself in, appearing where he is needed, leaving when his work is done, returning to the gate when he dies again.

They are collected in violent death, and released again through violent death, though there are some exceptions. That is in truth the one thing the Gate controls. Death.

It is, after all, the exchange for life.

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Mustang gritted his teeth as Pride's sword cut through the muscle and bone of his left shoulder.

"Damn you…"

Pride grinned. "Oh, Mustang, did you truly believe you could defeat me?" He lifted up his eyepatch. "After all, I do possess the Ultimate Eye."

Mustang managed to overcome the initial shock of pain to bring the fingers of his right hand together.

Pride drew a second sword. "Now, dear Mustang, I shall deliver the _coup de grace_. You should be honored to die by my hand." The sword sliced off Mustang's hands before he could snap his fingers, first his right, then his left, removing his last defense. Next went the arms at the elbows, then the shoulders. Then the legs, ankles, knees, hips. Mustang's mutilated body now hung by the sword through his left deltoid.

"Oh, no, that will not do at _all_…" and the sword pierced his solar plexus as the one in his shoulder was removed. "There. Truly a work of art."

Mustang howled in agony. The pain was intense, but Pride, with his Ultimate Eye, had cleverly cut his nerves in a way that he could not slip into unconsciousness.

"Now, now, Mustang, don't wear out your vocal cords. You still need to tell me who else was in on this. Hawkeye, perhaps? Or your entire unit? I will kill them anyway, they were too close to you."

_'Hawkeye! She'll be coming! She won't stand a chance...oh god...'_

"Oh, I am correct after all, I can see it in your eyes. Well, I suppose this is the end, _Private_ Mustang. My, how humiliating. Demotion in death." Pride sliced off the rank pins and stars indicating Colonel status.

"Goodbye, Mustang." Pride turned and walked away, leaving Mustang pinned to the wall. "Take comfort that you won't be alone in death." His voice echoed down the passageway.

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As Mustang faded, he could hear a bell tolling. It was a mournful sound, which seemed fitting.

But weren't senses supposed to dull in death? The bell was becoming more and more clear. His surroundings, which had gone dark, began to lighten, as if dawn was coming to the catacombs.

Odd.

Then he saw the Gate. _'So I'm dead after all.'_

"Yes, you are dead. But I am not sending you to your final rest. You see, Flame Alchemist, there are many worlds. My purpose is to keep them in balance. Sometimes, I need…assistance."

"So you want me to become one of you?" Mustang got angry, real fast. "I've seen what you do! You tear people apart, and use them as sport! Join you! Never!"

"No." The voice was amused. "I need someone in the world to help control the influx of souls. You see, I am not all-powerful. I do not give power, I moderate it."

"So what is it you want?"

"I am sending you to a different world. I shall permit you to use alchemy; you will need it."

"Where? Why?"

Mustang's answer was to be pulled into the Gate. Light flashed, and the bell, which he had ignored, tolled louder.

He landed on stone. _'Ow.'_

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And yes, the homunculi win.

I got this idea after I started writing 'To Live Again'. I'm trying to put someone's talents or views in the appropiate world. So, what would you think about Hughes in Tanya Huff's 'No Quarter'?

RxR please!


	2. First Impression

To one of the reviewers: London? I think not. This is Valdemar.

**Dutchman: Inferno**

**First Impressions  
**

Mustang awoke to the sound of a bell tolling. The air was cool, and a slight breeze whispered through the leaves. He opened his eyes. He was lying on the soft moss beneath a broken archway. He sat up and looked around. Ruins. The area looked like it had once been a temple of some sort. Standing, he stepped out from under the archway and looked at his surroundings more closely. 

The ruins were in the center of a small grove. It was autumn, and the trees were changing color. The air was far more humid than what he was accustomed to.

'_Well, I'm definitely not in Central anymore.'_

Stretching, he winced as he felt the skin around his scars pulling taut, his farewell gift from Pride.

'_Scars? The Gate must have healed me…yeah, otherwise I'd be bleeding all over the place. But why am I still in my bloody uniform? Oh, well. I suppose I will be able to get them cleaned somewhere.'_

He checked his pockets. _'Chalk, gloves, notebook…and the circles on the gloves are clear…'_

Mustang wandered away from the ruins. When he reached the trees, he looked back at his landing spot. He thought it odd that the bell tower was still in good condition. _'Wait. Bell? Wasn't it tolling when I arrived? Who was ringing it? He's got to be around here somewhere.'_

Mustang hunted around the ruins for a bit, but finding nothing, shrugged, and walked into the forest.

Mustang only had to walk a short distance before exiting the trees. He was in the middle of a large field, surrounded by a fence. A paddock.

'_Well, I am a Mustang after all.'_

But where were the horses? It was empty and quiet. No, not quite. He could hear a bell clanging and shouting coming from his left. It sounded distant, but near enough that he could hear what was going on.

"Fire! Form a bucket line! Now! Move! More water! We need more buckets! Hurry!"

A fire. A bad one by the sound of it. He ran in the direction of the noise to see what he could do.

This wasn't a fire. It was an inferno. No matter how much water was poured on, or dirt was thrown on, the fire would not go out.

'_What can be feeding it? It looks like…It can't be…nobody here should be able to…'_ His thoughts ran in circles. Alchemy should be impossible here! But if someone else could do it, so could he…

Mustang slipped on his gloves, and formed a circle with thumb and forefinger. And encountered resistance.

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Lavan was lost. Where did the fire come from? How did those boys just burst into flame? Somehow, he knew he was responsible, but he couldn't do anything! Flames blossomed all around him, sending his hair rising upward, propelled by tiny flames that licked the air savagely, a roiling cloud of fury that destroyed everything but him. One of the boys tried to dash past him, making for the door. The flames saw this attempt to escape. The boy did not have a chance. He dropped to the floor screaming, to lie next to the other three bodies.

His other tormentors shrieked in terror. _"_Please! _Please!"_

Lavan wrestled some of the flame under control, but the flames then turned on _him_. He could feel a second force try to calm the inferno, but the dragon was too strong. He screamed in agony, then passed out as the flames fed.

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Mustang gritted my teeth as the heat from the raging fire washed over him, holding the back of his right hand with his left, palm outward, as he sought to transmute the oxygen and carbon into carbon dioxide, to smother the flames. It didn't work; something was fighting against him. Sweat broke out on his brow. Now what? _'What would Fullmetal do?'_ Jump right into the fire, and rescue anyone still inside. He couldn't do that.

'_But I'm an alchemist, right? And I can manipulate more than just gases.'_

He bent and drew a circle on the ground, and pressed his hand onto it. Blue lighting flashed, and the wall of the building crumbled in an instant, all the flammable elements removed and blown away as dust. What remained of the wall fell inward, smothering whatever fires were behind it. He couldn't save the building, but he could keep the fire from spreading.

Three figures staggered out of the fire, and collapsed in front of him, gasping, all sporting horrible burns, but nobody rushed forward to help them.

'_Where were the other people helping with the bucket line?'_

They were all standing back, looking at him in shock and fear. _Fear_. They were afraid of him! Mustang was too worn out to care right then. He turned back to the building, but the fire had died out on it's own. _'Good. That other alchemist decided to give up.'_ He turned back to the boys lying on the ground.

"Help them!" he screamed at the onlookers, and attempted to lift the first boy up. Attempted until he fell over, and collapsed forward. He had worn myself to exhaustion, fighting whoever had been controlling the fire.

Seeing that he was helpless, a few people dashed forward, grabbed the boys, and dragged them off, while someone else called for stretchers and a Healer.

'_Oh, good. They finally get their act together.'_

But nobody was coming to help _him_. That was when he felt the spear in his back.

"Don't move," a voice warned.

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OK, I'm going to keep the chapters short, because of work and class.

Thanks to all those who reviewed chapter 1. Once again: This is not London.


	3. Here Am I

**Dutchman: Inferno**

**Here am I**

The area had been cleared rather quickly. Mustang watched as several bodies were pulled from the rubble, along with one badly burned boy.

'_Why was he in there? He's much younger than the others.'_ He wanted to help, but the sharp point between his shoulders prevented him from moving.

Hoofbeats sounded behind him. "What have we here?"

"He was doing something with the fire, sir. I believe he is responsible for what happened."

"No I'm not! I was trying to –"

"Quiet! You are charged with arson, destruction of property, murder, and attempted murder! Take him away!"

"_Listen to me_ dammit! I was just passing by when –" A jab in the back shut him up. Mustang was chained hand and foot, and thrown over the horse's back. From there he could see that his captors wore blue and silver clothing, and steel armor. A winged horse breaking it's chains adorned the saddle blanket, as well as his captor's shoulders. The flag at the prison bore the same motif.

Mustang was searched before being tossed into his cell. His gloves and chalk were removed, as well as his notebook and pen. He was stripped and forced into white prison garb. Afterwards, he was left alone. He sat on the metal cot, and watched as the sun went down.

'_I wonder what happened to Riza and the rest of my crew. Hopefully they succeed, or at least escape.'_

With that thought uppermost in his mind, Mustang succumbed to sleep.

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Mustang raced across the battlefield, his men following.

SNAP! A group of Ishvarlans went up in flames, screaming.

SNAP! BOOM! The bunker they had burst out of exploded.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! Every time his fingers touched, chaos and destruction ensued.

"Sir! Orders are to cover the right flank and prevent them from breaking through!" Mustang turned to see Hawkeye pointing in that direction. Nodding, he gestured to his men to follow him.

Whump! The sound of a sack hitting the ground caught his attention. Then a wave of heat washed over him.

"What the blazes is the?" one man asked in shock.

To the south a sea of flames shot up, as high as a mountain, consuming everything in its path. Twisting vortices sucked men into the raging inferno, their death screams cut off in an instant.

Mustang watched in horror as the flames advanced. Amestrians and Ishavrlans alike fled, only to be caught by the tongues of flames that licked outward. Mustang had always respected fire, but this was the first time he truly _feared_ it. This firestorm was raging out of control, too large to smother, and was devouring friend and foe alike. He ran with his men, hearing the encroaching flames roaring like devils.

Then it was his turn to be sucked in. And he screamed.

And Mustang woke up to a guard pounding on the door to his cell, telling him to shut the hell up and go back to sleep because he was disturbing the other prisoners.

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Mustang was yanked out of dreamless sleep by the guard pounding on the door.

"Oy! Wake up, arsonist! Sentencing's in ten minutes!"

He dragged himself up from the cot, rubbing his eyes. Wait. Sentencing. Not a trial, he was already condemned without a chance to defend himself.

"Hey! Don't I get a trial?"

"Nah, too many witnessess. Murderers don't get to speak, 'less a Herald feels like practicing the truth spell, so as the killer can condemn himself."

"Any chance I can ask for a herald?"

"You're mighty confident. Think you can beat the spell?"

"Well, you can never tell till you try..." The guard snickered.

"Lunatic."

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When Pol woke up with a pounding headache, his first thought was…

"A _tree_ fell on me?"

"That's what happened. Actually, if your Companion had been a step more to the left, it would have crushed you. You are a very lucky man, Herald Pol."

"How long was I out for?"

"Three days."

"Three days! Did anything happen during that time?"

"You know that the merchants, minor nobles and such had a school alongside the Collegium, right? Well, there was a fire there yesterday. Four boys died, and three are here. I'm actually treating the youngest." The healer paused.

Pol sensed that this was not all. "And…?"

"Well, they claim to have caught the arsonist…but some things don't add up."

Pol waited for the healer to continue.

"The boys have no reason to be in the building after hours. The youngest is several forms under the others, and there is no reason for him to be with the older boys. In addition, under the burns, I found marks of a beating."

"You think he was being bullied?"

"Tortured. It's the term we use with adults, and I see no reason to use a separate term just because of age."

"What he had been whipped as punishment? By the instructors?"

"I think that's what they would have told me, when I asked earlier."

"What else?"

"The man who was arrested showed up after the fire started, covered in blood. He then proceeded to pull two of the boys from the building when the wall collapsed."

"What will happen to him?"

"He will be sentenced in ten minutes."

_:Satiran! Get a Herald at that court! Now!:_

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Herald Sharissa found herself pounding through the streets of Haven at breakneck pace.

_:OK Claire. Lets go over this again. We are on the way to save an already convicted arsonist because of some Healer's half-baked theory that he managed to convey to Herald Pol just as he's waking up from having a goddamn tree fall on his head? How do we know we got the right message?:_

_:Because Satiran was just outside the window and heard the entire thing, and I don't think _he's_ insane as well! And for the last time, we still have five minutes to get there before this man is sentenced.:_

_Why me?_ Sharissa thought. She knew the answer, though. She was the only Herald in range with the ability to invoke the truth-spell. _Damn you Pol. You better be right about this._

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Mustang was hauled roughly into the line for the docket. He was third in for sentencing.

The first man was found guilty of theft in a nobleman's house, three witnesses. The second was accused of destroying several carriages, but got off when it was determined that the carriages had been his, and were damaged beyond repair in the first place.

Then it was Mustangs turn.

"Well, well, the arsonist. One count of property damage by fire, four murders by fire, three attempted murders, also by fire. How do you plead?" The judge smirked. He was very pleased to have gotten such a high-profile conviction for his record.

"Not guilty," Mustang responded calmly. The people crowding the room were taken aback by this reply.

"A whole host of witnesses watched as you did something to manipulate the fire, including several members of the Royal Guard."

"I am not responsible for the fire, nor for the deaths, nor for the injuries of the boys who survived."

The judge sighed. There was always some crazy person who believed he could beat the system.

"I hereby pronounced sentence!" The people in the court leaned forward, eager to hear the sentence passed on the man guilty of so heinous a crime. "You are-"

"Not guilty!" a woman's voice shouted from the doorway, where a scuffle was taking place. Murmurs swept the room, as a blonde woman in a white uniform strode confidently into the center of the room.

"Looks like it's your lucky day, mate," hissed the guard. "Looks like a Herald showed up, special for you."

"I am here to use truth spell on this man." More murmurs.

The woman stopped in front of Mustang. She paused, looking at his face. Then she shook her head, and looked Mustang in the eye. Mustang found himself surrounded by a blue glow.

"What is your name?" The woman paused, examining the remains of his uniform. "And rank?"

"Roy Mustang, ex-colonel, wanderer." He wouldn't give more information than he had to, but it was best to answer some possible questions ahead of time.

"Are you responsible for the fire at the Guild School yesterday?"

"No."

The woman seemed satisfied with this answer. "What were you doing there?"

"I saw the fire, and tried to stop it. I have an… ability with fire, and I tried to take control from whoever was manipulating it."

"Someone else was in control?" The woman was shocked.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

The blue glow disappeared. The judge sighed, disappointed. "It appears, sir, that you are innocent. You are free to go. Your belongings." He said, gesturing to the notebook, gloves and chalk. Mustang gathered them up and stowed them in their proper pockets, before walking towards the door.

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I just got started an hour ago when I got the 'write it' bug real bad, and ZOWEE!!! Four and a half pages!

I figured I would do a chapter an event, so please excuse the lack of action.


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